Mardi Girl

"Mardi Girl, Mardi Girl, you don't even know what Mardi Girl is," Grayson sings to his sister who is busy searching for a Dora backpack.

"Uh huh, I do too," returns Abby.

"Then what is it," challenges her brother.

"Penis."  Abby decides.

"No.  You're wrong.  It's famous.  It lasts a whole WEEK and I get off from school and you might not."

"It's penis," Abby explains.

"No.  It's not.  It's a pa-RADE and it goes all week AND kids can go but you might not."

Abby, my Mardi Girl, your brother is right.  You are staying at home on house arrest with Mommy during Mardi Gras. 

Until you're thirty.

New Land

We have landed in the new place.

Sweaty, bedraggled, and slightly crazed, we arrived over a week ago to set up camp inside the echoes of this new house.

The kids went nuts. (Hold your ears if you click link.) 

They have calmed down a bit since then but only because they are both sick.  We all came down with the yuck, except Andy.  Hmm, he was driving in a separate car.  Alone, with music and NPR and beef jerkey.  Smart man. 

My dear brother, Donnie helped us with the worst part of the move.  He was driving the moving van that wouldn't go above 43 mph up a hill.  And we took the scenic route through Virginia.  The Blue Ridge Mountain route with nothing but hills.  Donnie was speaking in tongues and practically chewing his e-cigarette by the time we stopped for gas.  I would not have blamed him if he ducked out the Sunoco window, hailed a cab back to NYC, and gave us the finger in the back seat for the next hundred miles.  But he stayed the course. And I adore him for that.  For many other things too but that is icing on an already divine chocolate brownie-cookie-dough cake.

I was driving the minivan so rightfully got the kids, the dogs, and everything that wouldn't fit in two moving trucks.  Before you feel sorry for me I have to confess, it really was not bad.  I had company to keep me awake, dog saliva to keep me watered, and the option to learn every lyric to Rio by Rihanna.  It could and should have been so much worse.  They have all earned the moniker:  Road Warrior.  Especially Sadie who shrugged her shoulders in Virginia and didn't wake up until Tennessee.

So, we are here at the end of one road and the beginning of another and I don't really know what to tell you guys about first.  There is just so much to say.  I've written and rewritten this post several times, posted then uposted, ruminated and mindfully deleted and still cannot come up with anything close to how I feel about all of this.

Leaving was harder than I knew it would be and all of us were sad as hell to leave.  Even Donnie.  He gets very attached.

I could go on and on about all the sad and how I couldn't belieeeee-eeee-eeeve I had to leave my mom, my brother, his family, Mary, her kids, after Jimmy blew this taco stand.  Then, leaving Mr. Jack, his Eddie-Lou, Mr. Ives, Jenna Jam, my JCC lovelies, Trader Joe's, sweet Sara, our cozy routine, our entire way of life.

But you know what?  Somehow we lived through all the leaving miles and I refuse to breathe in the sad that does not belong in this new place.  Wallowing will happen later, for sure, when I can't find a friend to stomp puddles with me but for now, for now... 

...it's really beautiful here.  There are critters as far as the eye can see in our front yard and our back yard. The kids grab their fishing poles while still in their pjs and walk down the driveway to fish for sunnies.  Frogs race the tadpoles in our stream.  This house has very tall ceilings.  There is pretty white bark flaking off of two trees near our sunroom.  Something clicks and barks right outside our door causing Sparrow to froth at the mouth and Sadie to perk her ears up like a purebred lab.  Our neighborhood looks like every scene in The Prince of Tides.  Somehow I scored a gorgeous lantern for a housewarming gift.  Small friendly lizards come to visit us every morning while we have a sit and a listen.  My children have room to wander in this house and talk to themselves for a change.  The dogs think we parked on the sun and lost the keys.  The kids might think that too.  I love FaceTime with my mom.  My husband and I feel like newlyweds in this strange land with only each other to lean on. There is a CVS and a TCBY within a mile of our house.  You should see my closet.

We have landed in the new place and so far, it's an adventure.

Connected

This Sunday, I had a refreshing conversation with a really cool lady. We don't know each other whatsoever but we connected right away. Isn't it funny how you can knock yourself over with trying to make some friendships gel while others just spark to life over watermelon slices and a paper plate?

This one sparked to life.

She used words like faith, open, mystic, love and immediately I knew she probably kissed her dog on its face too. We won't see each other again, but that's the point. Connection doesn't necessitate longevity.

This really cool lady and I decided that life strings some of us, as people, to each other at just the right time even if the moment feels all wrong.

Case in point: When I first arrived here in Virginia, I was slow to meet other moms. My neighborhood is filled with them only they are at work during the day while I am at home with kids and fourteen hours to fill before bedtime. Zoom ahead a year and I find myself at a playdate with three new-to-me preschool moms. One of which was very outgoing. She was the ringleader, the spokesperson, the one I shied away from.  Andy had just left for a year long deployment, I was reserving energy, and needed quiet companionship.  Gregarious felt wrong for me.

Zoom ahead three years and this mom is now one of the four soul sisters I rely on here. We have spent so much time together that she can tell if something's wrong by how I exit my car. I can hear her thoughts when her mouth isn't talking much. We connected when I least really wanted to. And now, the path of our lives is forever intertwined through coffee, blue frosting, Marshall's, burlap burn where the sun don't shine (tube slides), play date wine, and so much more.

Some friendships are connected for life. Others are brief conduits on our way to someone else. Others still smolder in preparation for a future that will unfold in its own due time.

If I've learned anything from being me the last four years, I've learned to appreciate the system as it happens naturally. Not to force the ones that make you feel uneasy. Not to worry over or mourn friendships that may not have an organic foundation anyway. 

You can always tell when it does have promise. She'll use words like mystic, faith, open, love, or your version of meaningful. 

Sometimes the best connections happen when we least expect or even want them to.  Personally, I think it's because we're not the ones in charge of the system.

leaving

boxes stacked, leaning in, waiting
for me to believe in them
and trust they are not here to take away
but to give back
our home to us
on new ground,
hot
soft
green and ripe with choices,
explorations,
discoveries,
bugs,
sweat,
new love,
primal aches for comfort
far away
from here

no longer next door
an hour down the street
Vienna
JCC

our backyard with the bald spot on the lawn that isn't

ours anymore
And Jesus God please someone look after Mr. Jack and his wife. 

soon, we will unpack there
to find our home again,
hoping you really can
take it with you
while at the same time knowing
[with hearts sewn, twined, cross-stitched, frayed, stretching]
we are
leaving a lifetime behind.

Treasures from the Deep

While beginning to box up some of our things, I've come across a few buried treasures.

 

 College entrance scores/transcripts/papers and sticker collections from the early 80s. 

Soft brown lined school paper, dating back to 1979.  This one's actually my brother, Eric's.  He still has beautiful penmanship.

Some weird zombie princess I drew even though I denied all things girly and all things princess-y.  Maybe I drew it for my future Abby.

. 

 An autographed picture of Stephanie Powers.  I know you're jealous.  Standing in line at KMart with my grandmother to get "Mrs. Hart" to sign her picture was a moment.  She was actually really rude and my grandmother and I left that place saying, "Hmph.  Her clothing line doesn't even have any coolots!"  

Notes to high school heart throbs, college romances, and best friends gone now but never forgotten.

Old dream journals I kept religiously to figure out my "theme" and what it was trying to tell me.  This dream let me know I was not going to be a veterinarian after all if I actually wanted to graduate from college.  Dreams to me are still gospel and while I wish I grew up to be a vet, I know (and knew) full well I don't have the mind for it.

My teacher planning books filled with lessons ached over and tweaked to death.  Not until pouring over each of these, my students' work, and all the curriculum I made up from scratch for five separate subjects did I come to believe I did not suck as a teacher as I thought I did back then.  I was green, unseasoned, and impatient with myself but I did a damn good job in hindsight.  Wish the younger me gave herself a break and believed she was doing fine work.  If you're reading this and are too hard on yourself.  Stop.  Just stop.  You will look back and wish you were still that good.  Trust.

These were love letters from a class I co-taught a 1st grade class.  They called me Miss P, spelled phonetically.  26 little rainbow hearts all labeled to one Mrs. Pee.  I loved those little faces.

 

Here we have a Valentine from Andy when he was deployed on an aircraft carrier.  We became engaged and a couple of months later, he was out to sea for our entire engagement.  It was right after 9/11 so I was terrified for him, honored to be his fiance, and lucky to have a wedding to obsess about while he was gone.

 (Inside card view) Not sure if you can read the cut-outs but these were my favorite gifts Andy ever gave me.  Each one made me laugh harder than the next.  He had a lot of time (a LOT of time) on the ship and these cards have since gone by the wayside in favor of Hallmark so these are archived for our kids some day.

 A pile of lyrics, songs, and poetry from my time in the studio in my twenties.  Another golden era I was fortunate to have.  Man, I have lived a full life.  I always tell Andy if I die tomorrow (which by the way I'm really hoping I don't), please know I have no regrets.  I have done all I've set out to do with my life. My twenties were rich in art, hard work, love, and fearlessness.  My thirties have been devoted to my family, and my forties will be a big surprise for all of us.  I'm guessing antique shopping and a sh*tload of naps but I will probably need to get a paying gig.

All of these are legit treasures in their own right.  But none of which prepared me for this black and white beauty:

 Do you see his autograph bottom right corner?  

Look at all the intricate swirlies.  Can't get over how long this must've taken him to do by hand.

At first I thought it was a self-portrait.  Now I'm not so sure it's not George Harrison.  Either way, it's mesmerizing to me and I can't wait to hang it up in our new office at the new house when we get there.

We'll put it right next to this picture I found next to Jimmy's.  The one seated is my grandfather before he retired as a Brigadier General in the army.   Handsome fella, isn't he?  I always thought he looked like Jimmy Stewart.  And talked like him a bit too. 

I adore these men.  Always have.  Always will.  Death doesn't change that.  Death just makes me want to hang on to their memories more than I ever have before. 

It's what you do when you come across such priceless buried treasure.  You hold on to them.

Cutie Booty

Abby has taken a real liking to my mom's old classical guitar.

She walks around with it, strumming slowly and plucking nylon strings that have far too much give in them.  When she doesn't know I'm listening, I can catch her humming or singing her own song.

"I absolutely have stage fright," she proclaims if I ruin things with eye contact.  "I understand, little one.  I will go in another room."  And I do but still I listen to that little voice humming until her voice breaks out with lyrics important to a four year old heart.

"I will lo-o-o-o-ve you Cutie Boooty until the day I di-i-i-i-e."

Cutie Booty is what she calls our black lab, Sparrow.  Abby is mildly to severely to troublingly obsessed with Cutie Booty. 

Then I hear it.  I hear Abby's sweet voice elongate into a soft vibrato.  "Will you l-o-o-o-ve me forever Cutie Booty, tooooooooooo?"

Every single time I try to record her, she gets "absolute stage fright" and won't perform.  I happen to know what this is like so I won't force her. 

But I will keep asking.

Here is Abby's Debut:  Cutie Booty Runs Away - Take 1

It's a Colorful Life - Part 2

Our ancient computer is experiencing technical difficulties so pulling pictures from it is taking longer than my patience has tonight (about four min. per download).  My hope was to put up pictures from  2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013.  But, because I am staring at my pillow at 10:24 pm, I give you...


July - December 2008 - Our first six months of living in Virginia:

 Wow, does this make me feel old.  I have aged at least a decade (in four years!?) since this pic.  Where are my grays? Where are my crows feet?  Where have my boobs gone? 

 (Thrift store finds.  The magenta one on top became Abby's curtains with the help from my mom.)

 Ouch, my heart.  Just came across these two of Uncle Jimmy.  That crazy bike is my brother's toy.  I forget what it's called but let me tell you, it's not easy to ride at all.  Jimmy did a fantastic job going up and down the road without bailing like I did.  

 Ooof.  Man.  Ok, I can't end here...

Hi Aunt Jen.  Thank you for your beautiful smile.

This monstrosity is seriously what I served for Grayson's Dinosaur party.  

Bless all those souls who dared eat it.

Oh, that blue hat.  I want to eat that blue hat I love it so.

 

Mercy.  The tiny.  I can hardly take the tiny pink beggar.

Abby Turns One

It's a Colorful Life

Since I've been nothing but blue around here lately, thought I'd post pictures that have a wider spectrum and hopefully bring to you a smile as they do to me. 

I've really loved living in Virginia.  So much so, I hope to be back after our three year tour in the place where I'll eat too much, sing too loudly, and acquire a put-on regional accent.

Here's some color from our beautiful journey in my favorite house so far:

 

...This is fun, I'm gonna add more when I get the chance tonight.

xoxo